


The Story is in the Soil

by joshlymanwalkandtalk (Joshlymanwalkandtalk)



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Cohabitation era, Confessions, DC years, Favs the fixer, M/M, Matchmaking, Pining, Politico scandal, Timeline What Timeline, White House Years, bros, dc era, matchmaker, oil spill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshlymanwalkandtalk/pseuds/joshlymanwalkandtalk
Summary: Tommy wants Lovett and Lovett wants Tommy, but no one's willing to say anything. Favs can't let it go.





	The Story is in the Soil

Jon sat up straighter on the edge of the couch,  clicking against the buttons of his game controller. The enemy was sighted and Jon was going in. Gunshots and explosions rang from the TV speakers. Hiding away in his apartment from a real war to play an imaginary one was cathartic, if not ironic, which wasn't lost on him.

Tommy, epitome of good posture, was sitting next to Jon, his face pale, save for dark circles around his eyes, darker than Jon had ever seen them. He had been working every night that week, surviving on fumes, until Jon convinced him to stop by for some mindless entertainment between global meltdowns.

Their free nights, when they were lucky enough to have any, were now spent indoors and off the radar. Their faces, and chests, had been splashed a little too liberally across the front page of Politico and subsequently every other political news site soon after. Take your shirt off at one lousy bar and the president's honor is at stake. It was time to lay low and videogames at Jon's place were as low as they could go.

So there they were, sitting next to each other on Jon’s beat up couch, game controllers clutched in their hands. Empty pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table, more than a few meals worth. Jon’s mind was too busy with real world problems, as he justified it.

Their limited conversation was light: no work, no stress. Every hour of every day was so full of oil spill this and desert combat that that it was a relief to mentally check out for a while. Mostly, they sat in competitive silence punctuated with frustrated grunts and half hearted cheers. Tommy's cheers sounded hollow.

Jon glanced at Tommy between grenades. Tommy was quiet, but a different kind of quiet than Jon would've expected. It seemed strained, like he was trying to keep his face relaxed. They were continually dealing with a new and terrible event what seemed like everyday. They were all stressed, but Tommy was regularly working with heavy and sometimes dangerous information, so it was understandable that he might look even more exhausted. Jon didn't envy him. He did appreciate the quiet that Tommy carried with him. After spending whole days concerned with nothing other than the words needing to come out of the most powerful man's mouth at any given moment, words became too much work. They revelled in each other's silence. They could understand each other in the quiet, but Jon still felt uncomfortable when it lasted too long. He never really got away from his need for words.

“You're slipping, man,” Jon teased, glancing again at Tommy. “All that work is getting in the way of your game time and it shows.” Tommy huffed a short laugh, but stayed focused on the TV.

“Haven't been sleeping well, that's all.” Tommy's shoulders were starting to droop. He was slowly deflating, his cheeks tinting pink. The steady hold Tommy had had on himself was slipping away. Jon hoped Tommy was going to finally let himself relax and not just go through the motions.

“Lovett too noisy through the walls?” Jon laughed, setting up a landmine.

“Actually, I’ve…” Tommy said slowly, obviously choosing his words. “I’ve been having weird dreams.”

Jon “Hm”-ed and raised his eyebrows, but didn’t turn away from the screen, doing his best to shoot an enemy rebel in his crosshairs. They continued to play in near silence, only the digital sounds of violence echoing around the room. If they couldn’t go out and have a good time, then playing some games and eating some crap was just as good with less small talk. Sometimes calm was nice.

“I’ve been having sex dreams about Lovett.”

It was not the ideal sentence to break the silence. Jon’s jaw dropped so hard he thought he broke it.

His controller almost slipped from his fingers, the plastic slick with sweat and pizza grease. He had enough mind to pause the game before snapping his head to look at Tommy.

Tommy was still staring at the TV, knuckles going white around his controller. Jon absently glanced at the TV screen and then back at Tommy. Jon puckered his lips, ready to repeat the “what” that echoed inside his head, but only whistling air rushed out between his teeth.

“I… don't,” Tommy muttered nervously, his voice flat and hollow. Their companionable silence turned tense.  “Please say something.”

“I- I’m trying, man,” Jon eventually croaked. He paused another moment. The room was so loud when it was quiet. “I really don’t know how to respond to that.”

Tommy took a very deliberate deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He blinked, then turned to face Jon. He set his controller down next to him on the couch. The pink blossoming across Tommy's face looked neon against his pale features.

Jon grimaced in thought, squinting to concentrate. “Are they, like, gross?” His voice rose to a squeaky register. He felt bad for feeling hopeful.

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed again. “No.”

Jon's eyes went wide and his face fell wide open. “Wait, so like-”

“Yeah,” Tommy huffed, defeated. His neck was splotched red, the bright hue climbing to meet the blush glowing on his face.

Jon set his controller on top of the greasy pizza boxes and stared at it a couple beats. His mental processor was overloading and he had no idea how to keep himself from blowing like a fuse.

“So,” he said, pulling out the 'o’ to save himself from trailing off. “How long?”

Tommy fell against the back of the couch knocking a puff of air from his lungs. “A week-”

“A week?”

“-after moving in together.”

The shock of each confession played across Jon's face. He couldn't keep up with hiding it anymore. “It's been a month!”

He looked into the middle distance, nodding to think. He wracked his memory, skimming for the clues he very obviously missed. Nothing came to mind, but Tommy worked in National Security for a reason.

“Okay. Uh,” Jon’s brain was trying to catch up with his mouth. “Why now?”

Tommy fell against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and dragging his hands down his face. “I can only keep so many secrets,” he mumbled from beneath his palms. “I’m so tired, I can’t sleep, and work…” He squinted at Jon through his fingers

Jon hummed in acknowledgement, absently nodding again. “Do you wanna,” Jon paused to find the words. “Do you wanna do something about it?”

Tommy opened his eyes and hovered his hands over his face. “Are you crazy?”

“What? You think he wouldn't be into it?”

Tommy sat up and spread his arms wider. “And you think he would?” He fell back again.

Jon shrugged, splaying his fingers palms up. “I don't know, maybe? I didn't notice your sagging puppy dog eyes, who knows what else I've missed!”

Tommy put his hands back over his face. His head flopped back, making a loud thud against the wall behind him. “Why did I say it out loud? It's not true if you never say it out loud.”

“Tommy,” Jon said in his own soothing way and clapped his hand on Tommy’s knee a few times.

“And now I have to go back to where he is and try not to act weird,” Tommy rambled, continuing the theme of the evening.

“Don’t worry about it.” They both went silent and looked back  to the TV screen, their game paused and forgotten. Jon turned to Tommy and smiled wide. He could see Tommy’s eyes widen in response. “I’ll be your wingman.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at Jon, “Oh yeah, which one of Lovett’s friends are you gonna bang for me?” Tommy teased, a light finally coming to life behind his eyes.

Jon mocked offense. “Definitely not you, that’s for sure.” His smile was making his straight face quiver.

“Gross, dude,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Jon became more dramatic, unable to keep from chuckling. “Gross? Gross for me, but not Lovett, I see how it is.” They both laughed and Tommy sat up again, grabbing the controller on the couch next to him.  The tint in his cheeks looked like it was starting to fade. Jon picked up his controller and unpaused the game, the room filling with the sounds of bullets and falling debris as they resumed their mission. “Seriously, though,” Jon said, knocking his knee against Tommy's. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”

  
  


Lovett was in Jon's office. Jon leaned back in his chair behind the desk while Lovett slouched in his own. They were reading through a draft quietly, trying to flip pages faster than the other. He could see the greasy fingerprints on the corners of Lovett's copy from the pizza Jon smuggled from the mess for him.

“It all looks good. Maybe tighten up the last 4 paragraphs,” Jon said, throwing the stapled stack on his desk. Lovett hummed in agreement, fumbling with the papers in his lap, half of them having become unstapled during the editing process. Jon watched him and began to panic. Lovett wasn't the most difficult person to talk to, but Jon had no idea how he was going to be smooth enough that Lovett wouldn't see through and mock him endlessly.

“How do you like living with Tommy so far?” Jon feigned a casual air very carefully. He hoped it was effective and not as stiff as he felt.

Lovett snorted. “It's a little like living with Boy Scout Von Trapp and a walking protein shake addiction. Otherwise,” Lovett shrugged, smiling, “the first month’s been great.”

Jon nodded and hummed, trying his worst to stop tapping his pen. If he just stayed calm and kept to the script, he thought, this would be a lot easier. He tightened the reins on his train of thought. Mixed metaphors were a true sign of anxiety and Jon rolled his mind’s eye.

Lovett chewed the last two bites of pizza he had shoved into his mouth and wiped his hands on his pants.

“So no awkward hook ups bumping into each other stories, no drama?” Jon was going for jovial, but maybe he was too scripted in his own head.

Lovett smiled, looking back down at the scribbled draft on his lap. “Nah, I've never been so lucky. He never brings girls home.”

A sigh worked its way through Jon's chest, but he caught it in his throat. When Tommy mooned, he mooned hard, apparently.

“And when _I_ bless someone with my company…” Lovett purred.

Jon barked out a laugh. “You haven't brought anyone home either,” Jon said, playfully dismissive.

Lovett frowned and raised his chin. “I have too,” he squeaked. Then his voice got low, his comedic defenses starting to buckle. “Tommy looked like I kicked his puppy or something. Never had someone jealous of my hook up rate, especially not someone that looked like a Hilfiger model.” He shrugged and stared off above Jon's head. The apples of Lovett's cheeks blushed around his wide grin. He was like a blinking hazard light Jon hadn't noticed before.

“Oh jeez,” Jon mumbled.

“What?” Lovett snapped.

Jon realized he had said it out loud. He froze and then sighed, leaning forward, elbows to the desk. He tried to choose his words carefully like it was his job. “You like Tommy, don't you.” Not every sentence was a winner.

Lovett looked shocked in a practiced way, sweat at his temples. But he didn't say anything and Jon knew that he was right, no matter how graceless.

“Please tell me I'm not that obvious,” Lovett asked, his voice going even quieter, the humor totally absent.

“No, you're not,” Jon sighed again and relaxed the tension in his spine that he didn’t know he was holding. “And unless you tell Tommy in simple and direct terms, he’s never gonna notice.”

Lovett rubbed his sweaty hands across his pants and then wiped his palms down his face. He exhaled heavily. “How long have you known?”

Jon debated how to handle the question. He already bungled the beginning of the conversation, probably shouldn’t push his luck. He thought of Tommy and decided to keep that information in his pocket. “I’ve suspected for a little while, but not seriously for very long. A few days.”

Lovett slouched in his seat. “Why today, man?” The humor in his voice bubbled back up, building a hilarious barrier around himself again. “Have you  no empathy?” He sounded like he was ready for an audience again.

Jon was worried that Lovett's comedy wall would block him out too soon. He needed to get to the point fast. “Do you wanna do something about it?”

“Are you crazy? Why on earth would I do something as stupid as chase my hopes and dreams. Happiness is for suckers, Jon.”

Jon waved his hands and leaned back against the plush back of his chair. “I’m sorry I brought it up, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

“No worries, I guess.” Lovett sucked on the side of his bottom lip. He was rounded shoulders and a drooping spine. Jon watched him take a deep breath and transform back into the shape of a Lovett, on and ready. His back sat taller, his shoulders over compensated by climbing for his ears, his smile stretched his lips, but his blush stayed. “Wanna be my wingman?” He chuckled, his red face softening at the last second.

“I’m not screwing one of Tommy’s friends for you,” Jon laughed, acting scandalized. For being certifiably good with words, he was finding that he was a terrible actor.

“He has none, so you have nothing to worry about,” Lovett said, perking up, a joker’s grin across his mouth. He grabbed his draft and binder, clutching it all to his chest as he got up and walked to the door. His smile fell a little as he got to the doorframe. “Seriously though, don’t tell him. Please?”

Jon’s chest hollowed. He didn’t mean to hurt Lovett or make him worry about anything. God, he was clumsy. Lovett turned to go. “Don’t worry, I’m not telling anyone,” Jon assured, nodding at Lovett, hand on the jamb and halfway out the door. “But I’ll keep my ear to the ground anyway,”Jon called after him. Lovett rolled his eyes and spun out the door into the busy hallway.

  
  


Jon felt hot in the middle of Tommy's couch. Staying indoors was becoming less fun by the minute. Alternating apartments sort of helped.Jon couldn't wait for those stupid photos to be forgotten so he could go out and have a drinks like a normal person. There was only so much meddling in the affairs of one's friends until normal was relative.

He was flanked by Tommy and Lovett, the three of them taking up all the room along the length of couch. Lovett slouched over the arm of the couch balancing his beer between his knees while Tommy’s immaculate posture held him up by pure determination. Jon was stuck in the middle, melting into the lumpy cushions. Their hips and thighs were close to fully pressing against Jon’s and he felt like he was slowly being crushed between two oblivious magnets.

All three of them stared at the latest breaking news on the bright screen. Everything they reported was breaking something and the talking heads had a hot take no matter what the subject. It was like nothing existed outside of news anymore, even to the point of becoming news themselves. He was surprised he didn’t see news tickers at the bottom of his vision every waking minute of his day.

From the corner of his eye, Jon spotted Lovett's gaze on the side of Tommy's face, tracing Tommy's profile. Jon could see the emotional exhaustion in Tommy's face, separate from everything else that kept him awake at night. Lovett was absently twirling hair on the back of his head, losing focus on Tommy's mouth. It was simply too easy to spot those things; they were both so lovesick and absolutely tortured by it.

Lovett caught himself and swallowed the rest of his beer before Tommy could catch him instead. He stood up, clumsily stepped over their pile of legs, and fell towards the kitchen, balancing at the last moment. “Can I get you guys anything?” He asked, his hand on the edge of the table and his left leg raised behind him.

Jon shook his head and Tommy turned away from the TV to look at Lovett. “No, I'm good, thanks,” he said, a friendly smirk on his face. Jon could see the butterflies in Lovett's grin and nod. He could see the longing in Tommy's posture. Lovett continued to the kitchen and Tommy continued to stare after him.

Now that Jon knew what to look for, there was no way he could miss how much unabashed pining there was going on between them. It was almost too painful to watch. Luckily, he had plans. Sort of.

”Hey,” Jon nudged, knocking his knee against Tommy's, breaking the spell between Tommy's eyes and the space Lovett left. Jon's eyes were large and he had his finger over his lips in exaggerated hush. He kept his voice low enough that Tommy could barely hear him. “You should make a move tonight.”

“What? No!” Tommy mouthed, pinching the 'o’ tightly with his lips. His face was twisted sour.

Lovett rushed through the room towards the bathroom. “I swear this lite beer bullshit just runs right through me,” he muttered as he power walked across the space. “It's like paying to pee.”

They both watched him go by, heads swiveling like a slo mo tennis match. As soon as the knob clicked on the door, Jon turned back to Tommy, intent.

“If you don't make a move tonight,” Jon wagged his finger at Tommy, full of warning, “don't bother coming into work tomorrow.”

“You can't do that!” Tommy stage whispered on accident, a flustered smirk sneaking across his red face. He glanced back toward the bathroom, listening for Lovett's dawdling.

“Try me,” Jon said as tough as he could manage, trying not to spoil the ending. He pulled Tommy's eyes back to his almost grinning  face.

“You're not my boss!” Tommy whispered quietly, his arms gesturing around him in large swirls, but his smile was cracking through the rest of his features.

Jon narrowed his eyes like an an over-acted noir detective. “Fair,” he smiled, and pushed himself to standing.

Lovett strolled back from the bathroom, his hands still wet from the sink. He wiped his palms against his thighs. Tommy and Jon were staring at him again, this time a second too long.

Jon exaggerated a yawn all the way to the tips of his fingers before Lovett could point out how awkward the air felt. “Welp, I should go,” Jon drawled, sneaking a wink at Tommy while Lovett checked his phone.  “See you guys tomorrow.” Jon thumbed against an invisible keyboard and wagged his finger between Tommy and himself, nodding towards Lovett's back, and mouthed “Text me!”

“Good _bye_ , Favs,” Tommy said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, see ya,” Lovett turned back to Favs, leaning against the back of the couch, Tommy fidgeting in the seat behind him.

Tommy was looking up at Lovett and Lovett looked down at Tommy. Tommy took a deep breath and their blushes began to match. That was Jon’s cue.

Jon walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. He waited on the welcome mat a beat, happy with himself and his performance.

Curiously, he put his ear to the door.

A moment.

Two.

Nothing.

He wondered what he thought he would hear. What had he been waiting for? No one was going to loudly proclaim their love as soon as he left. Jon was anxious, oddly excited for his friends to find something in each other. He stepped away from their door and down the street. He'd know how it went soon enough.

  
  


The next morning, Jon woke up to email, Twitter, and text notifications. He had texts from both Tommy and Lovett. He smiled to himself nervously.

Tommy's text read like an old fashioned thank you card, assuring Jon that he _would_ be at work that day with a parenthetical smile.

Lovett, always full of edge and shock, opened his with some oversharing, but ended with genuine thanks that Jon knew hurt Lovett to type so plainly. Both messages made Jon feel warm in his chest.

He wondered how long it would take them to admit to one another that Jon had secretly brought them together. That secret would surely be short-lived if it ever stayed one. He knew the reveal would come soon enough, probably later that day when he saw them both. He would give it all away by not being able to keep a straight face and he hoped they wouldn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is imaginary, but I needed some reality to ground this. I'm still learning the facts, don't worry.
> 
> Dedicated to skylinethroughthewindow and straightshooters, the best beta friends I could ever ask for ✌


End file.
